


A Golden Light

by kaeorin



Series: Stark Tower: Avengers Drabbles [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Magic, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You’re not thrilled at the idea of having a breakdown in front of Loki of all people, but what can you really do about that? And what will he do?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Stark Tower: Avengers Drabbles [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050788
Comments: 10
Kudos: 222





	A Golden Light

This had been a part of you for as long as you could remember. That gnawing, churning feeling in your stomach. That lead weight in your chest. That murky darkness in the back of your mind. It was the uncertainty that did it—the uncertainty of living as you did without ever knowing what could possibly be rushing at you from the depths of the future. Other people, it seemed, were far better equipped to handle it than you were. 

Thankfully, you were not prone to the typical sort of panic attacks. You carried your anxiety with you almost all the time, but it never swelled to take over completely. When things got bad, you tended to withdraw into yourself. The world faded out while you got lost in your own mind, lost in the deafening sound of your own heartbeat. Eventually, things would pass and you would once again be able to bully yourself into paying attention to the world outside.

Since joining the team and taking up residence in the Tower, things had been mostly under control. Even being part of a team like this one, doing the dangerous things that you did, didn’t really trigger anything major (or embarrassing) in you. That was a relief. You got the feeling that these people would understand if you ever broke down—they’d seen some shit, after all, and it was a pretty safe bet that they were all familiar with that sickening feeling in your gut—but you didn’t like the idea of it anyway. They had gone to space. Multiple times. They had lost loved ones. They had fought monsters and illusions and their own minds and literal __Nazis__ and they didn’t spend their time freaking out in common areas.

You were all gathered around the giant screens in the living room, watching a news report that felt like it had been going on for hours. Once again, the world was facing down a threat. Once again, the lives of millions were at stake. This time, there wasn’t anything that any of you could do. It was a disease, something far too small for any of you (including Lang) to try to suit up and take on, and yet far too large for any of you to feel okay just letting things happen. 

Here and there, someone would say something, usually a grim joke or observation, and the others would respond appropriately before quieting down again to listen once more to the television. You had chosen to focus more on regulating your own breathing, and that constant distraction had been helpful for a long time in keeping yourself under control, but your heartbeat was growing ever louder. There were only a few minutes left, you knew, until you couldn’t do anything about this, so you took the risk: you slid off of the couch, returned Wanda’s worried glance with a tight smile, and retreated. If anyone else noticed your absence, surely they’d just think you were tired of hearing the same news. That was nothing to feel silly about. 

You didn’t have the courage to look back over your shoulder.

***

Your legs did not tremble beneath you. They were strong and steady all the way to the elevators, where you stood for what felt like several long minutes. Just as you began to consider taking the stairs all the way up to your floor, the elevator bell dinged (which only made you jump a __little__ ) and the doors opened. Thor greeted you with a warm smile, which you attempted to return as you stepped backwards so he and his brother could exit the elevator. Tony and Bruce had determined that the Asgardians were __probably__ safe from the disease spreading through the human world, but Thor and Loki were under strict quarantine orders with the rest of you anyway, just in case there were other organisms on their home world that were vulnerable to it.

“Evening,” you said almost under your breath. As you’d expected, your voice was a little too wobbly to sound entirely normal, but you ducked into the elevator in hopes of escaping before either of them could realize that something was wrong.

It almost worked. Just before the doors could slide all the way closed, Loki stuck his hand between them to hold the elevator. Looking at the brothers out of the corner of your eye, you saw some kind of wordless exchange pass between them, and Loki stepped back inside with you. Thor nodded, mostly to himself, and continued on to wherever he was going. The doors actually closed this time, and you were suddenly very alone with Loki.

He’d gone straight to the back of the elevator and was now leaning on the handrail against the wall as though this didn’t bother him in the slightest. Maybe it didn’t. But your heart was racing in your chest for...mostly different reasons now. Stark’s elevators were considerably larger than the standard ones, but you were distinctly aware of Loki standing behind you. In the midst of your panic about the state of things in the world outside, it was almost nice not to be frozen in your own mind, but it still wasn’t...great. Was he wearing cologne, or was that just how he smelled all the time? You tried to remember, but your mind wouldn’t focus.

“Where to, love?” Normally, you loved his voice. It was dark and rich and flowed like warm chocolate, sometimes bitter but, in your experience, mostly sweet. But it came from too close tonight: he must have moved to stand directly behind you, and even stooped to put his mouth dangerously close to your ear. His breath was warm.

Even as you flinched away from him, you hated yourself for it. That was part of your thing, part of the strength you brought to the team: You were supposed to be intensely aware of everything going on around you. Even without high-tech equipment you could track an enemy’s movement through walls: you could figure out where they were going and, more often than not, get yourself there first. You were not supposed to flinch because a colleague managed to sneak up behind you. Hell, he shouldn’t have been able to sneak up behind you in the first place. You took a deep breath in hope of steadying your rapidly-deteriorating nerves and then attempted a nonchalant laugh.

“Oh—just...my room. I’m tired, you know?” You reached out to press the button for your floor, and prayed to every god you could think of that he wouldn’t notice the way your hand was trembling. Those kinds of things were the most humiliating parts of all this. It would be one thing if your body would just let you shut down and go numb for a while while your brain struggled to get things back in order. But to give you all of these obvious symptoms—trembling limbs, a quavery voice—so you couldn’t just keep this mess a secret? You let your hand drop a bit lower, but kept it ready to reach out for another button. “What about you?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Just as you were about to turn around to look at him, he cleared his throat. “To be quite honest, I’d like to accompany you.”

Your stomach twisted again, and you could almost tell yourself that it was just the guilt. Despite all your weirdness here and now, you really liked spending time with Loki. In the presence of the others in the Tower, he was closed-off and even sullen, but when it was just the two of you, he was lovely. The stories he told, part memories from his childhood and part fanciful tales—you knew this despite his vehement denials that he’d __ever__ lie to you—they made you laugh. Though he made a big show of rolling his eyes any time you asked him for help pranking one of the others, he always made brilliant contributions. Many, many times the two of you had run away through the corridors together only to double over with laughter once you’d gotten to safety—mostly from Thor. When he was allowed to be himself, Loki seemed to be constantly followed by a swirling aura of cheerful chaos. On a good day, it kept you on your toes and made every moment a surprise. On a bad day? You crossed your arms over your stomach.

“Loki.” Your voice wavered again, and your cheeks burned. There was no way that even he could pretend he hadn’t heard that one. “I love spending time with you. I love it.” You squared your shoulders and forced yourself to turn and face him. You needed him to see the truth in your face. As much as you hated the idea of showing this much weakness, it somehow felt vitally important to you that you __didn’t__ become yet another person rejecting him for who he was. “But...today...with all the shit going on, I’m...” How much were you willing to reveal? Not much. Cowardice caught like a lump in your throat and you lowered your voice to a whisper. “I don’t feel well right now. No mischief, _please_.”

As much as you would have liked to look away from him then, you forced yourself to hold his gaze. He’d revealed other parts of his life to you here and there, parts that often broke your heart. It was only fair that you resist the urge to hide yourself from him. Maybe it didn’t matter. Though Thor had often sworn up and down that Asgardians could not read minds, you got the sense that Loki often knew much more of your mind than what you shared with him out loud. 

His forehead creased, though his eyes were devoid of the wicked sparkle that often flashed before one of his ideas. He took half a step closer to you, but then froze again where he stood. “No mischief,” he said solemnly. “You have my word. I just...you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Right on cue, the elevator shuddered to a stop and that same familiar _ding_ startled you badly enough that it nearly sent you to your knees. Loki didn’t even snicker. Instead, he slipped his arm around you to offer support as he guided you through the doors.

When you got to your sitting room, you let yourself sink into the sofa. In vain, you tried to pull yourself together. You’d never really gone off the rails like this with an audience before, and you weren’t thrilled that Loki would be your first, but now that your body sensed the semi-privacy of your own rooms, there was really no stopping it. There was a pounding in your ears: your heartbeat, of course. It grew and grew until it drowned out everything else in the room. You pulled your knees up to your chest, desperate for any kind of comforting pressure or shield, but it didn’t help much.

A blurry figure swam before your eyes. No, Loki. He stood before you now, bent over to try to look into your face. Vaguely, you could see that his mouth was moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You shook your head and pressed your forehead against your knees. Maybe you couldn’t stop him from witnessing this, but you certainly didn’t have to witness _him_ witnessing it. The world carried on in this state—nothing but the dull roar of your own heart and your pointless struggle for breath and the roiling twist of your stomach. 

There was nothing you could do. There was nothing that anyone could do. You were so used to beating your opponents to a bloody pulp, or at least looking on with satisfaction as one of your teammates did the same. But there was no one to beat. There were no solid, actionable steps that you could take in order to get any closer to saving the world this time. Some dull, smug part of your brain kept butting in to parrot all the same things that the scientists and news anchors had been saying for weeks now—isolation, proper hygiene, taking care of yourself were all ways that every citizen could fight this problem—but it wasn’t hard for your desperate, racing mind to push each insufferable statement aside. There was nothing you could hit, nothing you could hack, nothing that anyone could shoot or magick or blast with a bolt of lightning.

The couch shifted and suddenly you were tilting to the side. Maybe you gasped and tried to right yourself again, but an arm slid around your shoulders to pull you against a solid body. Loki. Again. If you were feeling more like yourself, you probably would have pulled away, but tonight you let yourself lean against him for support. He was a steady pressure around your shoulders, against your side, and it helped so much more than hugging your own knees. Without truly meaning to, you turned to hide your face against the spot where his neck met his shoulders, to press your body to his. 

Gradually, your stomach began to settle. Your heartbeat quieted to something like more a rumble of thunder in the distance. Your mind still raced, but that same dull, smug part of you was becoming stronger and clearer. Loki was stroking your hair. He was resting his chin against your head to keep you in place, and he was saying something. You closed your eyes.

“It’s alright.” Your mind had finally cleared enough to make sense of what he was saying. “I’ve got you. I’m here. It’s alright.” It was like a mantra, you realized. Perhaps he’d been repeating it the entire time you were...out. Your face burned, and you were actually thankful that it was still hidden against him. Against Loki. The thought was almost enough to make you jerk away from him, but your burning cheeks kept you hidden. 

As the whirlwind finally started to die down, it was replaced by the soothing chills that came from his fingers in your hair. Between that and the ordeal you’d just put yourself through, it was like you were in a trance, caught up in the sensation of his body against yours, of his fingers continuing to smooth through your hair. It had been a very long time since you’d felt peace like this, if indeed you ever had. You were loath to give it up but the closer you got to normal, the more self-conscious you began to feel. Before long, you took in one last long breath of his scent and let it out, and then pushed yourself away so you were sitting upright. You forced yourself to ignore the strange hollow chill that you now felt without him.

“There, now.” Though you weren’t looking at him, it was hard to miss the way his smile colored his words. “Are you here with me again?”

With a quiet groan, you nodded, and then raised your hands to hide your face. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t let you hide for long: it was scarcely even a moment before elegant fingers were wrapping themselves around your wrists to tug them down into your lap. “What is it? Allow me to help.”

You shook your head and tried not to laugh. Imagine siccing a god on your own low-grade panic. “I’m fine,” you assured him, though your voice still wavered a bit. “You don’t need to do anything, I promise. I just spent too long watching the news and freaked out. You’ve already done so much more than I could have asked. Thank you.” You tried to meet his eyes, so he could see the truth in your own, but your courage had not yet fully recovered. Your gaze hovered around his lips before you allowed yourself to give up.

He made a sound, a thoughtful hum, and pulled his hands away from you. That same hollow chill deepened a bit. Were you always this _needy_ after one of these episodes? He scooted forward onto the edge of the couch and held out his hands in front of him, studying his palms as though he were looking for something. You scooted forward as well, but angled your body so you were facing him.

“When I was a child, I had nightmares.” His voice was low, and every bit as soothing as it had been before. He was still looking at his palms, but you were grateful for a break from his gaze. “Giants. Monsters. They chased me through the palace. I never knew quite what they wanted from me, but I suppose I thought they meant to eat me.” His lips curled into a sheepish smile and he glanced over at you. You couldn’t smile back at him, imagining a child Loki plagued by nightmares. His smile grew a bit wider before he tore his eyes away from you again. “For a time, when it was still acceptable for me to do so, I woke up wailing. Screaming for my mother. She always came to me and rocked me and told me I was safe with her.” His voice was soft, even tender, the way it so often was when he spoke of her. You tried to ignore the painful tug in your chest. What you wouldn’t give for him to be able to see her again. “As I grew older, she taught me things. Ways to soothe myself. She taught me this.” He gestured towards his hands with his chin.

At first, you were confused. There was nothing there. He was not doing much with his hands, only holding them cupped together. As you watched, however, a delicate golden light began to twinkle in his palms. Slowly, it grew brighter, and then shaped itself into a ball. As it did, Loki pulled his hands further apart, and the ball expanded to perfectly fill the space between them. The surface shimmered like stardust. You felt yourself begin to smile. “Loki, that’s beautiful...”

“Even for a small child, it’s hard to be terrified when you’re trying to conjure an orb of light. And it’s all but impossible once you’re holding it in your hands.” He turned to face you so he could hold the ball out in front of him. Close-up, it was even more beautiful. It was delicate, shifting like the surface of a soap bubble, but also so strong. It didn’t pop even when he brought his hands closer together to shrink it, or when he pulled them apart to make it grow. “Take it.”

Still in a daze, you looked up at him. His eyes were soft when he looked at you, and reflected the lovely golden light. You shook your head. “I can’t,” you said, careful not to speak too loud lest your voice somehow disturb the orb. “I’ll kill it.” The thought of watching something so perfect and beautiful crumble to nothing in your own hands made you feel sick again.

“Trust me.” He pushed his hands still closer to you, and something about the movement made you lift your own to mirror him. When you did, he tipped his hands to let the ball roll into yours. As he’d promised, it did not immediately crumble to nothing. Your breath caught in your throat. The light was weightless, but you thought you could feel a gentle warmth spreading from your fingertips up your arms. The ball continued to rotate as though it didn’t care that _you_ were holding it now instead of him. You could feel your eyes widen as you looked at him through the light. He was still smiling at you. 

After a few long minutes of wonder, Loki leaned forward and blew on the ball. The quick puff of air easily sent it flying towards you. When it made contact with your chest, it popped much like a soap bubble, sending its warmth throughout your body.

“Loki...” Your voice was breathy, but you didn’t have it in yourself to be embarrassed. This was not the moment for loud, brash voices. You had just held pure magic in the palms of your hands.

He was quiet for some time, as though giving you room to speak, but when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, he reached out to take your hands in his. He pulled your fingertips up to his lips and pressed slow, gentle kisses to each one. You could only watch, hypnotized. When he’d finished, he folded his large hands around yours and held them to his chest. “When you say my name like that, it...does things to me.” He ducked his head, and suddenly you had never wanted anything more than to look into his eyes again. “I could listen to that for the rest of my days. If you’d have me.”

Something heavy settled onto you, then—something like a realization. As quickly as you could, you did your best to brush it aside. He had kept his word while you were freaking out, but perhaps now he felt it was safe to go back on that. That warmth in your chest, that openness you’d felt with him, you let it slam shut with wounded pride. You would have pulled your hands away were he not gripping them so tightly. “That’s not nice,” you said in a bitter whisper. “You promised.” Your eyes stung with burning pinpricks of tears that you could not shed, but you did your best to ignore them. Let him poke fun if he wanted. You weren’t in any kind of state to be taken for a fool tonight of all nights.

“What?” His eyes went wide, almost pleading, as he leaned in closer to you. You wanted to search them for that spark of mischief, or that exaggerated earnestness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe you didn’t want the confirmation. “I’m not— No!” He moved still closer, until his knees were pressed to yours, and released your hands only so he could cradle your face. “What is it?”

Halfheartedly, you tried to pull away, to regain that safe distance from him, but he would not let you go. Fine. You stopped struggling and didn’t bother to hide your stupid tears as you fixed him with as steady a look as you could manage. “Thank you for helping me through all that but—but I’m not strong enough right now for any of that...nonsense. That’s not fair.” Humiliatingly, your eyes welled up again, but this time you didn’t bother trying to hide from him. Let him see what he’d done. You kept your eyes fixed on his. His forehead creased and he tightened his hold on your face.

“I gave you my word, no mischief. Is it truly easier to believe that I’d go back on my word than it is to believe that you have completely bewitched me? _You_?” Tenderly, he brushed his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the tears that had finally escaped. 

Your mind was whirling again. He seemed truthful. His face was soft and open, but not so intensely that it suggested it was all an act. Perhaps it was silly to tell yourself that you could possibly know this god of mischief well enough to correctly read his body language, but...you wanted to believe it, anyway. “But...all this. I—” It was so hard to say what you wanted to say: that you’d dissolved into a complete mess right here in front of him. Nobody wanted that. Why would _Loki_ want that?

“Do you know how few people have ever had the courage to show me any trust at all, let alone as much trust as you have in the time that you have known me?” He was still stroking his thumbs across your cheeks. He was warmer than you would have expected. “When you ask for my help, I know that it is not because I am useful to you but because you want to spend your time with me. You don’t hide from me. You are not afraid to let your emotions show on your face, and each time you do, you make my heart stop. No one has ever looked at me the way you do.” He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. When he opened them again, there was something so open and vulnerable in them that _your_ heart stopped. “You look at me not as a curiosity but as a wonder.”

“You _are_.” You drew in a breath, more than ready to fight for the right words to reassure him that he was nothing short of magic to you, but he shifted so that he could press his thumbs against your lips. The touch sent a little thrill through you and now it was your turn to swallow.

“I’ve tried to ignore things for a long time now. The sound of your laugh. The way the light catches in your eyes. The way you try so hard to include me with the others without making it obvious that you’re doing it.” He smiled faintly even as warmth returned to your cheeks. You’d really and truly hoped that he hadn’t noticed. “But tonight it was too much. A creature like you, someone who fights so hard for good in this world, you were not afraid to let me hold you even in the depths of your fear. Perhaps now is not the best time to tell you all this, but I felt I had to. You’ve shown me so much. Given me so much. I will spend the rest of my days trying to give back to you what you have already given me, even if you don’t...” He trailed off then, and looked away as though only just realizing that you could say no.

You couldn’t say no.

You reached up to pull his hands away from your face, and before he could process that action or begin to misinterpret it, you pulled yourself to your knees and leaned in to him. You pressed your lips to his, hoping wildly that you did not seem overly desperate or needy even though you were _both_. You felt him laugh, felt the quick puff of air against your cheek, and his arms wound themselves around you to hold you close. It was your turn to cup his face in your palms now, and you did, relishing in the feel of him beneath your fingertips. 

Slowly, carefully, he parted his lips and traced your lower lip with his tongue. You opened for him without thinking about it, and when he delved to explore your mouth, you were barely even embarrassed about the soft whimper that escaped you. He swallowed it hungrily and continued to make his claim on you. You met him with the same level of ferocity, teeth and lips and tongue as you drank him all in. 

Ages later, when you finally broke apart to draw in a much-needed breath, you rested your forehead against his and focused on the way it felt when he held you. At some point, his hand had slipped beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your bare skin, and now he traced patterns along the small of your back. You shivered and slid your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I—” He began to speak, but then cut himself off abruptly to take another breath. He sounded so much more hesitant than you had ever heard him, but also somehow much more warm. “Shall I...assume, then, that perhaps you feel the same? As much as I enjoy a bit of mischief here and there, I’m not sure I could take it right now.”

Once again, your heart fluttered in your chest, but this time it did not feel like a wild thing battering itself against a cage. You smiled faintly and sat up just enough to look him in the eyes. “No mischief, Loki. You have my word.”

His eyes glittered at the sound of you repeating his words back to him, and then he lowered his gaze to your lips. He said nothing as he guided your head back down to his and dragged his teeth along your lower lip before stealing your breath in yet another kiss. The first of many.


End file.
